Synchronization
by fishbish
Summary: Harry's war is Draco's war in this fairytale land where fantasy and fear, war and enchantment collide. There is no explicit slash, but if you're looking for it, it is there.


There is no blood. There are no trenches. No dirt to sift through a dying man's fingers, no gunfire, no last words to recount and store up like fool's gold. Neither Sergeants nor Generals call out the battle cry. There is no uniform so each man may become one of many, no pay packet to almost make it seem like it means something, and no worry about those left behind, so easily, magically reachable in an instant if they aren't there already. In a way, it is hardly a war at all.

Everyone is here because this was all there was. No one checked their health or asked them if they wanted to end up doing this. It was just this or that that you chose, and either way you would have ended up here.

All there is in this place - in this intermittent damp and bleakness - is fear. A great swell of fear rising in the heart of every wizard, a great gasp of the stuff breathed in and none ever exhaled. Just this.

'I guess we go on then,' Ron said, indicating towards the rising arches and turrets of Voldemort's headquarters. It looks like the cliché it is; an evil sorcerer's isolated forest castle, surrounded by fairytale hills and an expanse of rolling blue sky. Harry is almost expecting a maiden to be hidden inside one of those sharp grey turrets – a flaxen fairytale princess for him to marry and live with until the end of their happily-ever-after days.

'I guess so.'

'Shouldn't we ambush him or something?' Hermione said, fitfully twisting her plaited hair around her fingers. Ron wrapped his arm around her.

Harry smiled wryly at both the gesture and the suggestion. 'We're already in a small group Hermione. We don't want to move into any smaller of one.'

'It's not that small,' she said defiantly. 'And there'll be foreign wizards coming along too, you know. I spoke with Viktor and he definitely said that the Croatians will be coming – and Fleur's rallying Beauxbatons. I honestly think more are coming.'

Well, they'd better be quick,' said Harry, darkly casting his gaze onwards and shouldering his rucksack, 'because we're getting closer.'

* * *

'They're getting closer,' Draco said blankly, staring out of the tower window. He squinted down. 'God, Harry looks positively wretched.'

'It is immaterial what he looks like, as I will soon be killing him,' came the response.

'There's only a few of them,' Draco said thoughtfully, 'and they look fairly worse for wear. It won't be drawn out, I expect. Probably it would be quicker to go down there now.'

'No.' Voldemort barely paused to give weight to the suggestion. 'We kill in our own territory, Draco. We kill in the places we know, where there can be no hiding.'

'OK.' With a shrug, Draco turned back to his window and stared down once more at the distant figures.

'My Lord.' Lucius Malfoy burst through the door, looking winded. 'My Lord, they are within range. Would it not be wise to shoot those we are able to?'

'Hallo Father,' Draco said from the window seat, although he did not turn around. His father gave him the briefest glance, but said nothing.

'My Lord?' he persisted instead. 'My Lord, they are easily accessible to us now. It would be prudent -'

'Kill no one,' Voldemort said calmly. 'We must respect our traditions, Lucius. If we do not, who will uphold them?'

Lucius made an impatient snarling noise and let the door slam shut behind him as he went. A few moments later, Draco thought he could hear his father's voice barking out orders to the men below stairs.

'How rash he is in the heat of battle,' Voldemort said dismissively. 'I had almost forgotten.'

Draco continued to stare aimlessly out of the window, wrapping his white fingers together. 'He enjoys battle.'

'I know,' Voldemort said. 'It is what makes him a poor soldier. Cease watching them, Draco. They will be here in time.'

Mechanically, Draco turned away from the window, looking sulky. 'What would you like me to do instead?'

'Nothing.' Voldemort smiled. It was an unnerving smile; the smile of the living on the face of the dead. 'I want you to do nothing. Simply sit there and think of whatever you choose to think of. For the moment, I shall leave you here. There is business to attend to.'

Sweeping out of the room, he added, 'I hope the irony will not be lost on Potter that you are chained up in a tower, helpless to his call. It adds a touch of elegance to these proceedings, wouldn't you agree?'

Draco said nothing. He only twisted his fingers round and round, the middle to the thumb, thumb to middle, middle to thumb in a relentless, impotent action that gave nothing away.

* * *

'Stop fiddling,' Hermione hissed. 'We've been in much worse situations than this, Ron.'

'I can't help it,' he muttered. 'I'm nervous. Look at it, Hermione. It's a bloody great big castle, and there's only us to stop whatever's in there. How are we going to get in? Once we're in, what are we supposed to do?'

'Fight,' said Harry.

'Yeah, well you say that Harry,' Ron continued, 'and I hear you, but what are we fighting with? What are we fighting full stop? We don't know what's in there, and –'

'You're right,' Harry answered tightly. He stopped walking for the briefest moment. 'We don't know much about any of this, Ron. All I know is that that man in there murdered my parents. I know that he wants to kill me too. I don't know much else, but I do know those things. So if I die in there, then I die knowing I've done the right thing. That at least I've tried. And if you're not with me, you can leave us. Apparate back to the town, then Floo home.'

Ron shook his head. 'I'm not saying I want to leave, Harry. I'm saying I'm scared. They're different things.'

'The choice is there for you. For everyone.' Harry turned to the crowd of motley witches and wizards who were trailing behind him. 'All of you,' he shouted. 'If any of you don't want this, you can leave now and I won't hold it against you. If you'd rather stay at home and face whatever might be there, I would understand. You didn't have to come here, and now you are, no one is forcing you to stay.'

There was the gentle ripple of murmuring voices. No one moved.

'We're all going on,' a voice shouted.

Harry nodded his head. Still facing the crowd, he shouted, 'In that case, I suggest we Apparate to the doors. We've walked far enough today.'

'Harry –' Hermione said, 'Harry, are you sure –'

'Hermione,' he said hurriedly over the distraction around them. People were already beginning to fade. Ron had been the first to do so, with a look of resigned stoicism spread across his cheerful face. When he had reappeared unharmed several metres away, this had proved the catalyst to other people's following suite. 'Hermione, when we get in, I'm going to go alone. It's just – well - I have to do some things that way. You and Ron will have to lead them in my place.'

'I do love you, you know,' she said quietly.

Harry squeezed her hand to his. 'I love you too. Be careful, won't you?'

'Of course,' she said with a grim smile. 'Not that it matters though. It's you that matters now.'

Before he could rebuke her, she had faded out of view. Harry paused only a moment before Apparating himself.

'


End file.
